So, my friend is all, “oh darn, I had just pulled the chip from the trail camera when this bear came so I had to take photos with my phone.” Whereas I am all, “OMFG THERE IS A BEAR NEXT TO YOUR LAUNDRY IT MIGHT EAT YOU MAYBE DON’T HANG OUT WITH BEARS!” but, to be fair to me–I have been a wee bit too traumatized after I read the news story of the girl who got eaten by a bear while on the phone with her mother to be all appreciative of bears NEXT TO MY CLOTHES.

….when what I am writing about didn’t happen to me. I know, I know, it really does seem like all of the embarassing stuff in the entire world happens to me but for the first time ever this adorable little story of a tryst happened to a friend of mine. There is a boy and he likes this girl. This same girl also happens to like this boy. Due to a ridiculous amount of work on both of their parts they were only able to be alone for the first time together in a Home Depot parking lot after closing. Yes, that is correct–one of those romantic parking lots with the bright orange accents. Now, I feel it is fair to point out that these are just some crazy kids ‘in like’ and they were finally alone for the first time and they were just going to talk. Which, and this should shock absolutely none of you, led to the kissing. But remember, this is not my story so it didn’t lead anywhere further than kissing. But, during the kissing? Yeah, that is when the friendly orange-accented parking lot security guy tapped on the (probably steam-covered) window and asked if they were going to hook up in the parking lot and that they probably shouldn’t given the sheer number of orange-accented cameras present. Needless to say my adorable little friends were mortified and much chuckling was had by me when the story was related along with a, “you should put this on your blog.”

I would like to tip my hat to the gentleman security guard who was apparently quite polite and sweet about the entire situation.

and now that I have a Disney song stuck in your head, I shall begin this post brought to you by the fine people of “My Friend has a Cool Outdoor Camera in Michigan” which will probably make more sense at the end of this post.

Because writers block is caused by many (many) things and the only way to work through it is by 1. having something to write on (thank you very much hard drive of doom) and 2. just getting onto the dang site to make words go; here I am accomplishing option number 2 by stealing borrowing appropriating being gifted some lovely fun photos from a friend of mine who has an outdoor camera. Enjoying the micro-dramas titled (in my head) along the lines of “Who stole the sunflower seeds?” and “Why won’t these dang animals learn to pose!” and my personal favorites, “Dear Deer, we are sorry; we now know it wasn’t you.” and “Dear Raccoon, you are a sneaky jerk!”

We shall start the insanity fun with my very favorite picture. There is just something about this deer’s face which I believe captures the most awkward “hello” look in the entire history of deer-kind.

I am certain there are a million different people with a million different horror stories of how sucky diabetic neuropathy can be. Mine isn’t bad and I am thankful for that every single day. But it is important to remember that even one small Hershey’s kiss sized piece of poop on top of your sundae of life is still some shit in your sundae.
As I lay there I feel it; worse on my left foot than my right.<low buzzing almost electrical zappery> Ugh. Make it stop! so I kick my foot. Didn’t help. Okay, I will listen to an audiobook. That’ll help distract me. . <low buzzing almost electrical zappery now accompanied by an audiobook> I flip. I flop. I kick. I fuss. Finally at about one in the morning, after enough flipping, flopping, kicking, and fussing to irritate even Herbert (diabetic alert dog) off the bed I dig into my bag for a knife and with a growl of rage I grab the toe of my socks and pull it away up away from my toes and cut. it. off. A quick cut to the other sock and with a sigh conveying relief, irritation, and exhaustion I fall asleep within seconds.
I can’t have things touch my toes at night. Not always, sometimes I don’t feel it at all. But when I do—ugh. I now own more toeless socks than toed socks. Should I ever need to wear real shoes this may pose a problem.

Now, you are probably wondering, why not just take the socks off?

Well, because I am weird and my feet get cold and I wake up at 4 am with them aching if they get too cold. Also, it prevents my legs from getting bitten too much by mosquitos because yes, I wear thigh high socks to bed after the toes have been cut off.

So why not wear pants to bed?

Ah, wise question. Turns out that nowadays when I wear pants to bed due to my vast floppery I usually end up tied into an origami nightmare of which there is no escaping.

What is my entire bedtime ensemble you ask?

Ah, that one is easy. But be warned people, it ain’t sexy. Thigh high socks, no toes and bike shorts with a t-shirt. See, now I know you are all trying to make it cute…..it isn’t. But hot damn is it comfortable and for the most part prevents evil mosquitos from snacking on the majority of my body while I sleep.
Okay, toe rant over.
kisses!
-H.

Squished Together…

I write this blog to make myself laugh, and sometimes I even make other people laugh. Beware, there are probably spelling, syntax, grammar, and formatting mistakes all through this blog--but I try not to frak it up too much. I used to try to maintain two blogs, and since that was ridiculously difficult to do that as well as, you know, live--I decided to 'squish' the two of them together. Regardless of what my best friend thinks, the name of this blog has little to nothing to do with my boobs. *sigh* But, since I have family who could some day find this blog I have decided to put anything somewhat risque under a password. Anyone who would like that password needs only to send me a request. If you make the subject line something like "smut" or "password" it will help. :) Please send all requests to: squishedtogether@gmail.com
*kisses*